


Gritting Even

by Maeve_of_Winter



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic), Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Interspecies Romance, M/M, Moving On, Protectiveness, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22705816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: Sleep with one eye open tonight, bird,the mildew-spotted paper read. It was accompanied by a clumsy drawing of an amorphous orange blob. Only the googly eyes on it were recognizable.-Enraged at Tater for his treatment of Kent during the Aces v. Falcs game, Gritty decides to make his displeasure known.
Relationships: Gritty/Kent "Parse" Parson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Gritting Even

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adspexi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adspexi/gifts).



Frustration hung heavy in the Falcs’ dressing room, the anger and irritation at losing in the last few seconds of the game almost tangible. Tater himself was still seething as he walked out to the parking garage alongside his teammates, his vocal outrage a stark contrast to Jack’s sullen silence and Snowy’s vexed exhaustion.

“Should not be allowed!” he exclaimed, tossing his hands up in the air in disgust. “Little rat Parson not care about hurting goalie. Play dirty as he be wanting, but none call, not ever.”

For the first time since trudging off the ice, Jack spoke, letting out a derisive snort. “Well, that’s Kent. Doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants, and not caring about who might get hurt in the process.”

The plain bitterness in Jack’s voice, unlike anything Tater had ever heard before, brought him to glance over at his teammate and then at Snowy, his eyebrows rising. But as he turned his head, he just barely glimpsed a large and rapidly approaching orange figure out of the corner of his eye a millisecond before it was already upon him, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him violently as it let out a mighty roar.

It was huge, it was hideous, it reeked of old hot dogs, and it was jostling Tater back and forth with such force that he could barely think straight. He tried tearing himself away, but the thing was too strong, and even Jack and Snowy couldn’t pry him loose from his grip.

And then, a second figure appeared, just as unlikely and unexpected as the giant orange monster.

“Gritty! No! Stop!”

It was Kent Parson, rushing toward them in his immaculately-tailored game day suit. Within seconds, he was yanking on one of the monster’s arms and, in freeing Tater from its furry grip, accomplished what both Snowy and Jack had failed to do. Tater stumbled back, too dizzy to stand for a moment, and too dazed to thank Jack and Snowy when they caught him and helped him stay upright. 

He was not, however, so stunned that he couldn’t comprehend the scene before him as Kent stood within easy reach of the monster and reached up and stroked its face tenderly.

“I know you’re upset,” Kent told the monster soothingly. “I know you didn’t like how Mashkov tossed me around like he did. But what’s important is that I’m okay now.”

The monster only snarled and whipped its head toward Tater, sending him a googly-eyed glare. But it also placed a hand on Kent’s shoulder, drawing him close—almost as if trying to shield Kent from the three Falcs. 

“You’re right, he _is_ a brute,” Kent agreed easily, sending a flare of outrage through Tater. “But we beat them. He’s done, and he knows it. That’s punishment enough, don’t you think?”

“Only beat us because you be so dirty you make downtown Winnipeg look clean,” Tater shot back as he grew steady enough to stand on his own, withdrawing his arms from Snowy and Jack’s shoulders.

The retort had the monster bellowing and trying to charge at him again, but then instantly calming when Kent grasped its arm and looped it around his own shoulders again, tucking himself into its side.

“Don’t you go anywhere,” Kent scolded him gently. “How do you expect to protect me if you don’t stick with me? I need you right here, Gritts.”

Again, the monster calmed instantly, offering a contrite-sounding rumble as it lifted a massive paw to pet Kent’s blond hair. Tater exchanged enormously skeptical glances with both Snowy and Jack as Kent only smiled and leaned into the monster’s taloned touch.

“Kenny, just what the hell is going on?” Jack questioned impatiently, but he couldn’t quite disguise the uncertainty that flared in his voice as he glanced at the monster. “If you’re done with your games here, I’d like to go home now.”

“Never did have the time of day for me, did you, Zimms?” Kent sent a smile Jack’s way that was just a little too sharp at the edges to be sincere. “But I guess it’s about time the two of you met.” He turned back to the monster. “Gritty, this is Jack Zimmermann, my ex. The one I’ve told you all about,” he added meaningfully, in a tone that made it clear the details divulged had not been at all flattering. “And Jack, this is Gritty, my _new_ boyfriend. He’s going to be the Flyers’ new mascot as soon as he can threaten the right people.”

Jack reeled back. _“Boyfriend?”_

 _“Mascot?”_ Tater gaped. The monster— _Gritty_ —was hideous. What kind of city would want him? 

“Yeah, what exactly would he represent?” Snowy tossed Gritty an utterly unimpressed look. “The dangers of Philly’s ever-rising drug use rate?”

“He very ugly,” Tater agreed, and Gritty pinned him with that googly glare, growling and snapping his jaw in warning.

“Glass houses, Mashkov,” Kent replied coolly. “I wouldn’t talk if I were you, given that you’re a regular beauty school dropout yourself.”

“You’re dating _that?”_ Jack looked like he’d been struck in the face with a shovel. “That . . . _thing?”_

Rather than growling at Jack like he had at Tater, Gritty merely wrapped an arm around Kent’s shoulders and pulled him flush against him. A buzzsaw-like purr grated out of its throat as Kent nuzzled into its furry neck, and Tater swore he could spot a smug smirk on the creature’s fearsome fuzzy face as Kent cuddled in close.

“I know, I know, Gritty is a big step up from you,” Kent told Jack consolingly. “But sometimes after a breakup, people manage to make an upgrade. _I_ certainly did.” 

He shimmied his shoulders and hips slightly as he spoke, seemingly unconsciously, and Tater only wished he could have mistaken how Gritty’s eyebrows waggled up and down as he watched Kent 

“And then, well, some people date truly below their level when they’re on the rebound.” Kent sent Jack a pitying look. “Don’t worry, Jack. I’m sure once you’ve come to your senses about that teenager you’re dating, you’ll be able to _at least_ make a lateral move _._ Maybe. I mean, not everyone can get as lucky as I can, after all.” He sent a disturbingly amorous look up at Gritty, who gazed down at him adoringly in turn.

Tater found himself swapping disgusted glances with Snowy at the image that sprung into his mind. 

“Speaking of which, gentleman, as much I hate to cut this powwow short, we have a victory to go . . . _celebrate,”_ Kent informed him, and the revulsion that churned in Tater’s stomach at the deliberation before the final word had nothing to do with his anger at the Aces’ win. 

“Oh, and Mashkov?” Kent paused for a moment, turning from where he was hanging off Gritty’s arm. “You might want to be careful. Gritty is _very_ protective of me, and he definitely didn’t appreciate your crass manhandling of me during the game.” He turned back to tuck himself against Gritty. “Ciao.”

And with that, he sashayed off with Gritty, but not before the orange monster held up two fingers and swiveled them to point from his eyes to Tater in the classic “I’m watching you” gesture.

“What. A. Freak,” Snowy said flatly as the three of them watched the thoroughly odd couple walk off. “You’re not worried, are you?” he asked, turning to Tater.

“Of course not,” Tater assured him. It was the truth. “Parson doesn’t scare me, and neither could anyone or anything he dates.” He gave Jack a friendly nudge. “Must feel like lottery winner, huh? You got a cutie like Little B, and Parson got some scary monster.”

“Yeah, but—” Jack hesitated, kicking an idle stone. “He sure seems happy with that monster, doesn’t he?”

Tater snorted. “My thought? They be what each other deserve. Monster ugly outside, Parson ugly inside.”

Jack didn’t object, but he hardly seemed especially comforted, either, and sulked throughout the remainder of the night.

* * *

When Tater arrived home in the early morning hours after drinking away his sorrows with the rest of the team, he went to stumble into bed, only to find a piece of paper crinkling beneath his cheek when he flopped down against the pillow. Frowning, Tater withdrew it and held it close to his face to read. Mind hazy with a combination of alcohol and weariness, it took several moments to decipher the crude scrawl and a few more for his mind to register the note’s words.

 _Sleep with one eye open tonight, bird,_ the mildew-spotted paper read. It was accompanied by a clumsy drawing of an amorphous orange blob. Only the googly eyes on it were recognizable.

At first, Tater snorted at the warning. Kent Parson’s muppety boyfriend didn’t scare him.

But then it occurred to him that to leave the note on his pillow, Gritty must have figured out where he lived. Gritty had broken into his house. Gritty could be anywhere, at any moment. 

Even, Tater realized, glancing around his darkened surroundings in sudden, skin-crawling trepidation, in his bedroom.

And as it happened, Tater didn’t sleep much at all that night.


End file.
